Here's To You, Mr Robinson
by Save Fearow
Summary: Ickis misses an old friend. Rating due to subject matter.


Here's To You, Mr. Robinson

an Aaaah! Real Monsters! Fanfic

by Save Fearow

Author's Note: Monster Blues was my favorite episode of this series (and if you haven't seen it, it is highly recommended that you view it before reading this). In it, Ickis befriends an elderly blues musician, Ellis Robinson. But it wasn't until much later that I thought of the inevitable conclusion to such a friendship, humans and monsters having very different life expectancies. Thus, this story was born.

Disclaimer: Aaaah! Real Monsters! and all the characters therein are copyright Nickelodeon and Klasky-Csupo Productions. The following is a work of fanfiction, created solely for the enjoyment of readers, and not for profit.

Ickis tiptoed across the floor of the dilapadated apartment. As usual, his quarry was seated in an old rocking-chair, casually plucking a bass guitar. "RAWR!" Ickis leapt boldly in front of the man.

"Ickis. How good of you to come." the elderly man's face crinkled into a grin.

"Mr. Robinson, you should at least PRETEND to be scared." Ickis chided him.

"Oh right. Right. I forgot." Mr. Robinson cleared his throat. "Help me! Help me! This monster done scare me so bad I gone blind! Lawd, deliver my sight back to me that I may tell the world of the terror that is Ickis. How was that, boy?"

Ickis shook his head. "Nuh-uh. You can't tell anyone about us, even jokingly. The Gromble forbids it."

"Ah yes. Your big, scary teacher. He still giving you grief?" Mr. Robinson inquired.

"I'll say. You know I have been Snorched three times this past week, and all of it for something I didn't do!" Ickis complained.

"What was that?" Mr. Robinson wondered.

"My homework." Ickis replied. Both human and monster laughed uproariously, until Mr. Robinson's guffaws turned into a coughing fit. Ickis paced nervously around his friend. "Are you feeling okay, Mr. Robinson? I can make you Gromble Soup." he offered.

"What in the world is Gromble Soup?" Mr. Robinson asked, in between coughs.

"Oh, it's terrific! This one time, at the Academy, the Gromble got sick and we had a substitute who was even WORSE than he was, if you can believe that!" Ickis declared.

"No!" Mr. Robinson exclaimed.

"Yes!" Ickis continued. "And he got his three best students, or at least the first three who would talk to him, and he sent us into the human world for ingredients. Oblina got him a king's crown, and Krumm took on a dragon, and I- I brought back the ogre's tail!" Ickis paused, considering. "Well, okay, first I brought him a featherduster. But then, I got the ogre's tail. Took it right off the cafeteria monster, and was she ever mad! She chased me around and around and I screamed, uh, more out of surprise than fear, and the Gromble drank the soup and got better so he yelled at her until she went away!"

"Good for him." Mr. Robinson commented sagely.

"Yup." Ickis was really enjoying his dramatic retelling. His voice rose to a crescendo as prepared to end his tale of daring-do. "And then the Gromble made us all take our exams, and I got the lowest score in class!" Ickis' face fell. "Wait, that isn't a happy ending AT ALL! I was jipped!"

Mr. Robinson chuckled again. "Boy you got some imagination."

"I am NOT making this up! You know, you're as bad as Oblina. She's always saying" here Ickis adopted a mock accent, "'There is the truth that everyone else tells, and then there is the truth that you tell, Icky, and never the twain shall meet.'" Ickis folded his arms defiantly. "Well, I don't know who this 'Twain' fella is, but I bet you I am ten- no twenty- times the monster he ever was!"

Mr. Robinson wiped a tear from under his eye. "Lawd, but you do go on! You sure like this Oblina girl, don'tcha?"

"Of course I do. She's my best friend." Realization suddenly struck Ickis. "And that's ALL she is, so you just wipe that smile off your face and stop thinking squishy thoughts about us."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Mr. Robinson assured the young monster, although a mischievous grin cast doubt on his sincerity.

"You'd better not. I'm really fierce you know." Ickis fangs' protuded slightly in a vain attempt at intimidation.

"I know, boy. I know." Mr. Robinson coughed again.

"Are you sure you're up for a music lesson? I brought the mouth harp with me, but I- I can come back later if you need rest." Ickis wasn't exactly sure how to behave around humans, ill or otherwise, but he didn't want to impose unduly on the musician.

"It's alright, boy. Ain't nothing wrong with me but old age. I can feel it in my bones, my time is almost up." Mr. Robinson absently plucked at a guitar string.

"Up? What do you mean, up?" Ickis' voice was tinged with panic.

"I've lived a very full life, Ickis. Gonna be eighty-five next Monday." Mr. Robinson spoke matter-of-factly.

"Pshaw. I'm older than that! You should be fresh out of bonsty school, not talking like you're- you're-" Ickis couldn't bring himself to say the word.

"Dying." Mr. Robinson's voice was gentle, and without regret. "I'm gonna try to hold on a little longer. Like to have m'self one last slice of birthday cake. I'd appreciate it if you'd be there, boy. You got something nice to wear? I ain't much for standing on ceremony, but there's nothing wrong with lookin' sharp, when the occassion calls for it."

Ickis considered this. "I got a prison uniform, and there's a clown costume the Snorch makes me wear sometimes."

Once more, Mr. Robinson burst out laughing. "I am gonna miss you boy, somethin' dreadful. You all right. Now, what say we make a little music? Start me off Ickis, and I'll follow."

Ickis dutifully began tapping out a 4/4 tempo, and raised the harmonica to his lips.

Not surprisingly, Ickis found it difficult to concentrate in class that Monday. He'd spent all weekend going over his chord progressions, but still couldn't pull off his transitions anywhere near as smoothly as Mr. Robinson. He'd have to ask the old man for another demonstration. Maybe he'd even let him try playing a song on the guitar! Ickis had always wanted to try it, but hesitation had kept him from asking. He knew the strings were fragile, and his claws could easily break them. Mr. Robinson assured him that it happened to all musicians sometime, but it wasn't as if Ickis could readily obtain replacement strings. He'd scoured the dump for a discarded instrument, but the most he'd ever found was a guitar pick. He was going to give it to Mr. Robinson tonight, as a present. He knew enough about humans to know that gift-giving was customary on birthdays. The pick wasn't much, but it seemed more appropriate than the toenails or dried insects he might give to another monster. He was less certain about dressing up. He'd worn human clothes only briefly, as disguises. His superhero costume (a mask made of discarded boxer shorts, and a towel) was the closest he could come to "looking sharp" and besides, he liked the boost of confidence it gave him, even if the Gromble frowned on such things. Ickis was still contemplating his plans for the afternoon when the Gromble sauntered up to his desk.

"Finished already, Master Ickis?" the Gromble's voice was a throaty purr.

Ickis made a futile grab for his paper. "J-just a minute, sir. I'm still working on it!"

"Nonsense. You've had -plenty- of time, and I can't wait to read your thesis on scaring." The Gromble read aloud from Ickis' paper. "C, D, G, C major. Well, that's certainly an interesting take on 'What Scaring Means To Me'. Care to enlighten us as to the meaning of this- this gibberish?"

Ickis smiled nervously. "It means I'm in trouble, right?"

The Gromble nodded. "You're not one to mince words today, are you? I admire such effeciency in my students."

"You do?" Ickis felt momentarily hopeful that he'd might elude punishment yet.

"Oh yesss. Ickis, I think you are exactly the sort of monster I need to add dust to ALL the books in the library. For some reason, ours don't seem to accumulate a thick enough layer of it." stated the Gromble. In the seat next to Ickis, Oblina whistled innocently.

"All by myself? That'll take hours!" Ickis protested.

"Perhaps this will make the job go faster." the Gromble casually tossed a featherduster at Ickis' head. "Class dismissed."

"You're all heart, sir." Ickis sarcastically responded.

As he expected, dusting the books was particularly arduous. It was dirty work, made all the more odious by the intermittent laughter from classmates. Zimbo in particular was starting to rival Oblina for trips to the library. Ickis strongly suspected that his prolonged suffering went a long ways towards explaining Zimbo's new-found interest in literature. Finally, he hopped down from the last bookshelf ("Zero Gravity Scares: A History of Horror And The AeroSpace Programs", "Zillions of Ways to Terrify Humans", and "Zombies: Friend or Foe?" were among the titles), filthy and out-of-sorts. "I swear, the next monster who calls me 'Dust Bunny' is gonna get it." he groused.

Zimo hovered insolently above him. "Aww, does it make you hopping mad, little rabbit? Ha ha!" Blood dripped into Ickis' eyes as he slowly began to enlarge his body. He might even have pulled off a menacing loom, if the dust hadn't gotten inside his nostrils. "Ahchoo!" Ickis sneezed and instantly shrank back down. Zimbo snickered.

"No talking in the library!" the librarian scolded.

Ickis shook the remaining dust off himself. "Sorry." he mumbled. Zimbo flew off without bothering to offer a cursory apology.

The librarian's face softened. "Well you did do a good job. I'll be sure to tell the Gromble all about it." she chirped.

"Thanks." It took some effort from Ickis to keep a straight face, but he managed. The Gromble and the librarian had made a fleeting attempt at romance earlier in the year, and much as the idea of the Gromble squishing on anyone made Ickis want to retch, he recognized the merits of having at least one adult on his side. "You know, old Gromby's been using the same bone for lectures all semester, and it is really getting worn down. Maybe some thoughtful faculty monster would consider getting him a new one. Just a suggestion." Ickis winked at her.

"Oh my. I'm sure there's a book on excavating bones here somewhere. I just might have to peruse it." she trilled. "But I'm afraid I must ask you to leave, Ickis. Only 15 minutes till closing."

"Yeep!" Ickis jumped slightly. It was practically 9 o'clock. How could he have lost track of time? Quickly he ran back to the shelves and grabbed the title, "Bones And Where To Find Them" (sandwiched between "Boils, Pimples, And Postules: A Guide To Good Grooming" and "Breakout Scarers of the 17th Century"). "Here's-the-book-you-wanted. You-can-take-it-out-on-my-card. Hope-you-have-a-putrid-day-don't-worry-about-locki ng-up-I'll-let-myself-out. Bye!" he chattered hurriedly as he rushed out the door.

"Ickis! No running in the library!" she chided. With a sigh, she opened the book Ickis had handed her. "I wonder if he prefers femurs or tibias?" she mused.

Breathlessly, Ickis raced downtown. He took the shortcut across the abandoned lot. The guard dog sprang at him, but Ickis managed to distract the bark-and-bite by throwing his superhero mask in its face. He was loathe to lose any part of his costume, but it was a small price to pay if it guaranteed him safe passage to Mr. Robinson's house. Besides, he still had the cape which was nearly as impressive.

"Please, please, please, let me still be in time." Ickis prayed as he squeezed under the fence. Mr. Robinson would understand, he must have had his share of trouble at school too, right? Ickis was almost sure of it. He could see Mr. Robinson's house now, and the scaffolds surrounding it, as always. Except now there was a large white vehicle parked outside, and several black-and-white cars with flashing lights, and a crowd of humans in strange coats had gathered. What was going on?

Ickis was afraid to find out, but he knew he has to get closer. Cautiously he approached the nearest manhole cover. It was heavy and difficult to budge, but by looming slightly he was able to pry it loose. Now safely hidden, he pricked up his ears and listened for the sound of human voices.

"So the old man finally passed away?" one of the men in blue suits was saying. "Shame. I heard he woulda been eighty-five. You know, he was quite a fixture around these parts."

"He must have known it was coming. Called 9-1-1, complaining of chest pains, but the dispatcher said he didn't seem too concerned. Even asked if somebody could bring him a slice of cake." the white-clad woman gave a bittersweet smile. "I don't think he was trying to be funny, though. I think he just didn't want to die alone."

"Who would? We'll take him down to the morgue, and the coroner will probly sign off that he died of natural causes. After that, he'll get a decent burial. Fella like him should at least get some measure of dignity." the man concluded.

"Amen." the woman agreed.

Trembling, Ickis lowered the manhole cover. He couldn't stop the tears from falling as he slunk along the sewerpipes, and he cried all the way home.

Ickis was unconsolable. He had told his roommates, Oblina and Krumm, about Mr. Robinson, but while they tried to be sympathetic, neither of them had really known the old man the way Ickis had. Finally, Oblina and Krumm had gone back to bed, Oblina even going so far as to tell him he would feel better after a wretched night's sleep. He hadn't, of course. What little sleep he had was wracked with dreams where a ghostly Mr. Robinson berated his lack of loyalty, and the Gromble made him write "I've Let Everyone Down" over and over on the blackboard. After about the first 500 lines his father walked in, shook his head, and murmured that he should have put him up for adoption as a bonsty. Zimbo offered his services as a replacement son, which was met with much rejoicing. When Ickis woke up he was covered in a cold sweat, and just as miserable as ever.

"Ickis, I know you have just been through a great tragedy, but you need to pull yourself together." Oblina advised him. Ickis tugged morosely on his ears. "Not literally! Take a few deep breaths and meet us in class. Don't dawdle, you know how the Gromble frowns on tardiness."

Ickis trudged slowly to class, muttering as he went. "So I didn't show up for his birthday. Even though I promised, and it would have meant the world to him, fullfilling his final wish. Who cares if his last thoughts were probly about how disappointed he was in me? It doesn't make me a bad friend. It really doesn't."

The bell rang as Ickis gloomily shuffled in. The Gromble rolled his eyes slightly as he thought of this all-too-common occurence. "Master Ickis, you're late." he remarked.

Ickis burst into tears. "I KNOW! I told him I'd come and I kept him waiting and he went to his grave forever thinking of me as insincere and a jerk and I can never make it up to him but I'm sorry! I'm really sorry, I'm a failure as a friend, and I never meant it to happen, please forgive me Mr. Robinson, oh pleeeaaase forgive my failure!"

The Gromble was nonplussed. "Oh-kay. Thank you for that random act of insanity, Ickis. You make every class just a little bit more surreal."

"Failure failure failure!" Ickis moaned.

"Enough!" roared the Gromble. Ickis continued sobbing, seemingly oblivious to the Gromble's warning. "Ickis, I am talking to you! And when I talk, you listen."

Something in Ickis snapped. "That's right, I -do- listen to you." The tears had slowed down to a trickle as sorrow was overcome by rage. "You're the one who kept me after class! You -made- me miss his party, so it's your fault I didn't get to say g'bye. I HATE YOU." he snarled. The entire class gasped.

"Ickis! That's ground for expulsion." the Gromble threatened.

"Kiss my ears!" Ickis retorted. "I was leaving anyway!" As he stalked off, he shot back one final caustic remark. "And I'm never fighting another ogre for you again! Ever!"

Finster, Foutley, Pataki, Pickles... Ickis walked along the rows of tombstones until he found the marker he was looking for. "Mr. Robinson." he muttered sadly. "I- I didn't have any birthday cake so I brought you a slime pie. I know it's a little late, and probly not what you wanted, but I hope you like it anyway." There was no reply, save for the rustling wind and the relentless splatter of raindrops. "I still have the mouth harp and I practice the scales everyday, even when I'm s'posed to be studying. I thought maybe I could play that song again, from the day we met?" Ickis picked up his instrument and began playing the opening bars of "When You've Got A Good Friend." He didn't notice the Gromble's approach until the Headmaster was almost upon him.

"Your Grombleness!" Ickis turned to face his teacher. "H-how did you find me?"

"I heard an ear-pierching squawk, and immediately thought of you." the Gromble replied, his brow furrowed in annoyance.

"The humans call it the blues." he meekly stated.

"An apt description, indeed." noted the Gromble. He was wearing a trash-bag as a makeshift raincoat, but Ickis' fur was damp with rain, and was starting to take on a bluish cast. The younger monster shivered slightly, and looked away. "I spoke with Oblina. She said that an acquaintance of yours had passed away." The Gromble carefully omitted the word 'human'.

"He was blind," Ickis explained. "So he never really -knew- what I was. But I think we would've been friends anyway because he understood me, the way nobody else ever did. Not my dad, not my friends, not anybody." Ickis sniffled. "H-he was lonely I think. You can't play the blues unless you are a little bit. It's the music of outsiders. You play it because the world is harsh and uncaring, but you still believe, somewhere in your heart, that it doesn't have to BE like that. So you put all your pain and anguish into a song and just for a moment, you know, you really know, that you can turn your life around. Maybe you already are, but you just didn't see it before. That's what the blues is for, for guys like us."

"I see." the Gromble replied, although he clearly didn't. Ickis absently blew on his claws to warm them, and sneezed. The Gromble looked stern. "You need to get out of the storm. You'll catch cold, standing around in weather like this."

"I don't care!" Ickis hollered. "He wanted me there, but now that there is here, here is where I'm gonna stay." Ickis gestured vaguely at the tombstones. "I owe him that much."

"Hmmm." The Gromble tried a different tack. "I wonder, Ickis, did your father just stand there, wailing and feeling sorry for himself when your mother died?"

Ickis was indignant. "Of course not! He's the Great Slickis! He would never insult her memory by- by acting like me." Ickis faltered. "I'm sorry Mr. Robinson." he whispered softly, and bowed his head to the grave.

"I'm sure he doesn't hold it against you." The Gromble put his paw on Ickis' shoulder, and gently led him away from the cemetery. "Come along, Master Ickis. Let's go find you an ogre."

~~~The End.

Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading! Please review and respond (and-have-a-putrid-day! Bye!)


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